


The Morning After

by heyweirdkid



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Morning After, One Shot, Post-Beach Divorce, angst angst angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyweirdkid/pseuds/heyweirdkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After parting ways at the beach, Erik still finds himself drawn to the Xavier manor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

Erik wakes to the sun peeking out from among the lush trees that surround the manor. Charles is nestled against him and they have somehow managed to tangle into each other in the night. He shifts to extract himself from the mess of arms and legs, but Charles murmurs against him and curls himself to Erik's lean form so that Erik is loath to disturb such a peaceful slumber.

Erik has always left before Charles wakes. There's nothing left for them to talk about: Erik, a man of steely conviction and Charles, a man with a heart that belies his small frame.

But he still has plenty of time before Charles is due to stir awake so Erik allows himself the luxury to simply lie there. With Charles' arm lying protectively around his waist, Erik feels the faint stirrings of contentment even as his heart aches with how unfair it is that he and Charles have been robbed of more moments like these.

Erik veers away from that particular train of thought. He would have time enough to torment himself later, nut he won't let those thoughts cast a shadow on this fleeting world that he and Charles have created for themselves, their little sanctuary away from the world that would rip them apart.

Last night, they had diverged from their usual routine, both weary after a long day's work of attending to training-related injuries and cleaning up after a particularly ghastly lab accident and listening to not-so-subtle complaints about their mediocre state of living and dealing with suspicious locals.

It was the first time that they'd gone through a night without the messy, heated intensity of letting their frustrations out in the only way that they can without actually tearing at each other's throats, although sometimes there was that, in the heat of passion.

After a few rounds of chess (actual chess and not just a euphemism they told the children, in which Erik was pleasantly surprised to find out that Charles had a few new moves up his sleeve), they'd lain together with Charles pressed against his bare chest as he read a book and Erik stroked his hair.

There had been the tentative inquiries as to the well-being of Raven and Angel and Erik asking after the boys, they'd shared a few laughs at stories of Erik's misadventures traveling in foreign lands (but always so cautious as not to actually reveal his current whereabouts although Erik doesn't know why he bothers; Charles could always just pluck that information from him if he so wished) and at the shenanigans at the manor, careful to tread away from the dangerous territories of asking why Erik couldn't just come back home even though they both know it was what he desperately wanted because that's not how this fragile little thing worked, whatever it was.

Erik cranes his neck towards the window, where the sun is winning its battle against the dense trees, the sky now tinged with the orange of sunrise. When he moves to gingerly take Charles' warm, familiar arm away from his waist, Charles clings to Erik's warmth but Erik ignores the gnawing ache in his chest and pushes off from the bed.

He struggles to pull on his clothes in the relative darkness, deliberately turning his back towards the shadow that Charles' chair casts as it sits innocently in the corner, reminding Erik of a beach that took away the only thing that mattered to him.

His eyes rest on Charles' curled figure, the sheets tangled around legs that would no longer be able to walk or run or dance or feel or do anything but lie there uselessly and Erik sinks down on the bed, brushing his lips against Charles’ pale shoulder. Charles leans into Erik's touch and Erik's lips twitch into a small smile despite himself at how vulnerable he looks, that Erik is the only one Charles shows this side of himself to even though they're supposed to be mortal enemies now. 

He traces the angry red gash on Charles’ lower back. It's hard to imagine that such a tiny thing could cause so much damage and Erik lets out a strangled choke as the traitorous thought threatens to wash him over with  _guiltpainsuffering_.

The lightening sky beckons to him and he reaches out for the helmet, his inheritance of that tumultuous encounter with the man that both shaped and broke him (irreparably, Erik had believed, but that was before that night on the icy cold sea had led him to this man, and Erik still cannot believe how this is real, that Charles can look into his very soul and find someone to love).

It's strange how quickly the cool metal has become an extension of himself. But Erik doesn't take refuge in the alloy that slips so easily into his head.

Charles reacts immediately to the sudden loss of contact, murmuring in his sleep, and Erik tears himself away from him.

He's never tried to fool himself even for a second that what he and Charles share, whatever it is, could ever last. They are a part of something bigger than themselves now, a destiny thrust onto them that they cannot, are unwilling to, escape from.

"Erik."

Erik's hand freezes in mid-air at the sound of Charles' voice, his body quivering, ready to flee but he's rooted to the spot as he feels Charles' eyes bear into him and then he turns and retraces his steps to the bed.

Charles' hand trembles as he reaches out to place a cool hand on Erik's cheek underneath the metal of the helmet. Erik closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Charles' hand travels down his neck and Erik feels himself being pulled into a rough kiss which is more of teeth clashing against teeth, the taste of blood hot in his mouth and then they pull away, touching their foreheads together.

"I have to go."

Charles' grip in his neck tightens for a brief moment before going slack. "I wish you didn't have to."

 _Me too._  Erik is glad that Charles can't hear him underneath the helmet because it's taking every bit of resolve left in him not to crawl back under the sheets and let the world fall away around them.

Erik forces himself away from the bed, his heart heavier with every step that he takes away from Charles and doesn't even realise when his feet have taken him out of the manor.

Azazel is waiting outside and pushes off from the gate as Erik approaches. Erik reaches out for Azazel's outstretched hand and then there is the now familiar tug and the world swirls into a blur of colours around him before his feet find solid ground again.

 

 **EPILOGUE**

 

Charles is lying still, Erik’s side of the bed quickly cooling to the early morning and there is the gaping Erik-shaped void that he can never quite fill no matter how much he mothers the children or listens to Hank ramble on and on about his newest invention, he himself immersing totally in his work in an attempt to stop thinking about Raven.

When every waking moment is a battle, Charles has come to look forward to the nights where he and Erik can forget about the world and every time Erik leaves, he takes a bit of Charles with him.

Charles finally heaves himself onto his chair when he feels the children stirring awake (but no, they've lost too much, their innocence left on that desolate beach so that Charles can never think of them as children even though they're all still so painfully young).

But the manor is stirring awake and Charles cannot afford to lie in bed and let his thoughts consume him. Not even when he drags in a ragged breath as he spots Erik's undershirt draped on his armchair.

Charles reaches for it and brings it to his face and he is awash with the smell of Erik and closes his eyes, pretending that Erik is still there with him.

Charles had every intention of having the shirt laundered. Instead, he folds the shirt carefully and places it in his drawer, unable to bring himself to have Erik’s scent washed away, and wheels towards the bathroom.

Time to face a new day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple of months back and never really intended to publish it. But then I came across it again and I was surprised at how I didn't actually hate it. So here you are. 1,390 words of angst written while I was looping a really cute song. I swear my brain is so messed up.
> 
> As always, thank you to my lovely beta, tenacious_dingo, who introduced me to this fandom, really.


End file.
